


An Ordinary Day (with a bale of turtles)

by Hope_Tang



Series: Adventures in Aviation (airport personnel, ground crew, and flight staff, oh my!) [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Airports, Easter Eggs: Multi-Fandom, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope_Tang/pseuds/Hope_Tang
Summary: “Please repeat; there’swhaton the runway?”It was just that kind of morning at Marvel International Airport: the coffee machine was broken, Wade Wilson was on ground crew rotation, Coulson had the morning off, and there wereturtles on the runway.None of them were paid enough to be dealing with this kind of insanity.





	An Ordinary Day (with a bale of turtles)

 

* * *

 

 

"--on the runway."

"Shield-414, please repeat," said Jasper Sitwell, cupping a hand around his earpiece, because it was way too early in the morning for practical jokes. Around him, the air traffic control staff of Marvel (MVL) International Airport buzzed with the frenzy of morning rush hour. It was all hands on deck, as usual, and no time for bullshit. "There's _what_ on the runway?"

"There are turtles storming the runway," repeated Barton, not even bothering to hide his amusement at the situation. On the secondary channel, Jasper could hear the copilot Bishop snickering madly in the cockpit.

"Can we use the word "storming" when talking about turtles?" he wondered out loud. It earned him a confused glance from Peter Grodin as the Englishman gulped down hasty mouthfuls of tea between sorting out a five-way, seven-flight gate mix-up among long-time competitors XMN, SHD, and TJL.

Barton retorted, "We can when there's about 50 of them on my right wing."

"Hold position, Shield-414." Jasper waited for the pilot's acknowledgement before he switched to the Ops line. "Any port vehicles on the frequency?"

"Car 97, on duty, Captain my Captain!"

Jasper sighed internally. "Good morning Car 97, where are you?"

"Kilo-Bravo, and it's a lovely day!" chirped Wilson, because it was just that kind of morning where the coffee machine was broken, Wade Wilson was on ground crew rotation, Coulson had the morning off, and there were _turtles on the runway_.

"Car 97, I need you at Kilo-Delta, Lima-Three. There are turtles on the runway and I need you to remove them. _Carefully_ . Do not drop them. Do not throw them. Do not, in any way, shape, or form, _harm the turtles._ "

"I am hurt by your lack of trust in me, Ground. _Hurt._ "

"We all still remember the Christmas Party of '09, Car 97," was the flat, unsympathetic reply. "Do you want OSHA to pay us another visit? _Do not harm the turtles_."

"Spoilsport," muttered Wilson, likely forgetting that his radio was on. "Slave driver. Dictator."

"Wilson...," Jasper groaned, knowing that if he had any hair left, he'd still be going bald from stress, "please. get. the turtles. off. the. runway."

"Aye, aye Captain!" was the semi-manic sign-off.

A moment later, Jasper watched one of the airport maintenance mini-trucks swerve wildly onto the runway. This morning, it looked like all four wheels were going to stay on the ground, so he sighed and typed up a quick note to the internal ATC-only chatroom.

 **_J.Sitwell_ ** **@MVL-ATC-bulletin:**

**Morning all,**

**Please be aware: there are turtles at KD-L3, with more likely on the way, and Wilson is Car 97 on turtle-wrangling duty. Warn your pilots.**

The small chatroom window immediately blinked with a response.

 **_C.Weiss_ ** **@MVL-ATC-bulletin:**

**about the turtles or Wilson?**

Jasper repressed a sigh. It wasn't like Claire had been around MVL-ATC long enough to know the unspoken rule about Wilson and his...unique relationship with most (if not all) of the MVL airport personnel. There was a complicated history that really was Wilson's own story to tell, and no one else's; they could give the man that much.

Still, it was a valid question and the job was the job, and Wilson got that, no matter how painfully awkward (and literally flat out painful), it got sometimes.

 **_J.Sitwell_ ** **@MVL-ATC-bulletin:**

**Both.**

The radio squawked. "Ground, this is Firefly-1701, requesting permission to push away."

"Ground to Firefly-1701, be advised, there are turtles on the runway."

"Is that what those gray, moving things are?" mused Wash with the air of the imperturbable. "I thought they'd be... greener. And rounder."

If he wasn't already familiar with the ...peculiarities of Serenity Airlines' employees, Jasper might have banged his head against his console. However, he knew that out of the entire flight crew that he could have landed with this morning (haha, no pun intended), Wash was the one least likely to give him a migraine before the cargo plane took off.

"Yes," sighed Jasper. "Where are they and how many?"

After getting the necessary information and passing it along to Wilson (who was still gleefully joyriding across the tarmac at glacial speeds), Jasper told all of his planes to sit tight until the turtles were no longer on the tarmac. Most of his pilots took the news calmly, if not cheerfully. After all, they were flying through MVL which had a certain reputation for being... strange.

 _At least nothing's on fire today_ , Jasper signed to himself and then promptly rapped his knuckles on the edge of his workstation. There was no such thing as too much good fortune when it came to ATC, _especially_ at this international airport hub.

The rich, heavenly smell of properly brewed coffee filled the air. Spinning his chair around to find the source, Jasper nearly strangled himself with his headset in the process.

Darcy Lewis, undergraduate student and self-proclaimed assistant extraordinaire, held out a giant travel mug from _Espresso Flight_ with amusement. "Clearly, _someone_ wants coffee."

Jasper didn't even bother responding until he had his first mouthful of paradise.

"It's been a morning," he said, letting himself indulge in a second, smaller sip before he turned back to his workstation. Car 97 was making steady, if erratic, progress in clearing the runway. Two workstations over, he could hear Melinda May’s calm, if no-nonsense redirection of incoming flights on the tarmac to avoid the turtle-strewn areas. In the meantime, he had a budding sixteen-flight pile up at the gates because of some snafu on the arrivals and departures board that he was only learning about _now,_ forty minutes after the fact.

"Everything's on fire?" asked Darcy cheerfully, as she passed out everyone’s early-morning orders, already immune to the sarcastic, understatement tendencies of the air traffic control staff after only a semester of college internship credits. Jasper still wasn't sure how her business or political science degree fit in with Dr. Foster's meteorology research, but he appreciated her supportive, if occasionally over-enthusiastic, presence in MVL-ATC. On either side of him, the steady hum of quiet, firmly issued directions were interspersed with half muttered curses from his coworkers. Jasper raised an eyebrow at the string of filthy, filthy oaths from Grodin -- he wasn't aware that spoons could be used that way.

From the "back bench" area -- the unglamorous fourth row of workstations crammed right up against the stairwell entrance with next to no leg room, their newest trainee piped up, "More like everything's turtles."

"Johnson," chided Jasper, already tapping out the override commands to transfer the systems issue to her workstation, "if you've got enough time to make bad puns, you've got enough time to fix this mess."

Daisy "Skye" Johnson was most certainly Coulson's clever and brilliant protégé (aka problem-daughter) with a heart of gold, a habit of attracting Trouble, and a talent for bending stubborn computer systems to her will. She was a breath of exasperated relief in Jasper's ongoing crusade to fix their outdated critical infrastructure -- relief that he had another semi-engineer to throw into fixing system errors in addition to his own downtime tinkering, and exasperation because Johnson had a mildly rebellious streak in her.

At the same time that his workstation chirped, Johnson let out an over-dramatic, faux gasp of shock as she read the email header. "But that's for Ops to fix!" 

"You hacked your way into our systems," said Jasper without an ounce of sympathy as he got to his feet, coffee cup in one hand, "from an outside network and looped "It's a Small World" over the baggage claim speakers for seven hours. Fixing the damn arrivals and departures board should be child's play, so get to it."

"Aye, aye Captain," she replied sarcastically, already diving into the issue with the eagerness of a bloodhound on a scent trail.

With one problem off his plate, Jasper turned his attention to the other twenty, nope, twenty-one flights that were relying on him to take-off on time. "Ground to Enterprise-616, you're going to be in Terminal Sierra, standby for gate. Proceed to Tango-Lima for instructions."

The radio channel crackled before Sulu replied calmly, "Copy that, Ground. Enterprise-616, heading for Tango-Lima, holding for Terminal Sierra, standing by for gate."

Fleet Federation didn't have a lot of flights through MVL, preferring their regional hub at STA, but Jasper liked Sulu's unflappable yet friendly demeanor from the handful of times he'd worked with the younger pilot. It was certainly a welcome change from Kirk's energetic, if sometimes brash, self-confidence.

"Ground to Alderaan-2187." The radio spat static for several heartbeats. Jasper frowned at the lack of response and tried to get a visual on the flight in question at Gate D4. "Ground to Alderaan-2187, do you copy?" The channel stayed silent. "Alderaan-2187?"

"Sor-sorry Ground, this is Alderaan-2187, we copy." The shaking, half-distracted voice of the pilot did nothing for Jasper's confidence of the situation.

Catching Melinda's eye, he flicked the switch to share the open channel with her, took a slow deep breath, thought about the recent news headlines, and asked casually, "Did you get the ailerons unstuck?"

"Ailerons?" Jasper could hear the outright confusion on the other end of the channel. Melinda frowned, one hand closed over her mic and the other reaching out to alert airport security. "I checked the plane myself, nothing's wr--hey!"

Both senior controllers winced at the muffled thump and half-yelp on the line as someone took the headset from the pilot.

"Alderaan-2187 is secure, Ground." At the sound of Andor's distinctive accent, Melinda's shoulders relaxed and Jasper let himself sink into his chair. "Sorry for the confusion. Rook's a recent transfer. We're good here."

"No worries," replied Jasper steadily as he got back to his feet. "Can you get your marshal to check-in?"

"She'll be confirming in a minute." Melinda nodded sharply once, signaling that the air marshal assigned to Alderaan-2187 had given an all-clear, before she stepped back to her own workstation. "I'll hand you back to Rook now." 

Jasper said, "Copy, we've got Erso's sign-off. Safe travels, Andor."

"Copy that, Ground," he responded crisply. "Bodhi, let's--"

"Alderaan to Ground," came Rook's voice on the line a moment later. "Permission to push away from the gate?"

"Permission granted; you'll be right behind the Firefly-1701."

"Copy that."

The rest of the flight hand-offs were considerably less tense ("I'm not magic, Malfoy. You'll wait in line with everyone else. No, I don't care who your father or co-pilot are.") and straightforward ("E-4, as in Echo-Four. No, _Echo_ -Four. No, no, you're still in Terminal Echo. That's Terminal E, E as in Echo or Elephant. Okay, LTL-2013, let's... let's proceed to Lima-Delta and hold for further instructions. No, _Lima. Delta._ "), even with the added complication of turtles ("Wilson, do you have all the turtles? Correction, are there any turtles still left on the tarmac?"), that all in all, it was a fairly routine morning at MVL-ATC by the time the clock struck 12pm.

"Jasper," asked Phil Coulson, looking slightly bemused but mostly well-rested as he walked into the main room at the start of his afternoon-evening shift, "why is the main concourse playing "Boom De Yada" on loop?"

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The opening exchange is inspired by a real life transcript of JFK Air Traffic Control: [Turtles on the Runway](http://www.wsj.com/video/audio-turtles-cause-runway-delays-at-jfk/4CAFA3AF-D0BA-4337-964E-BFBD361E28CD.html) It’s a fascinating (and amusing) listen. Let's just say that this was the result of a couple of long-haul flights and way too many (or too few) hours in airport terminals.
> 
> Disclaimer: Other than being a fan, I have nothing to do with Marvel or... any of the Easter Egg fandoms I’ve tucked away in here.


End file.
